Alphabet Adventures
by smalld1171
Summary: 26 letters equals 26 themes. You have the opportunity to pick which theme for each chapter. Interested? If so, come on in! Rated for safety.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so this is an idea that I am sure has been done before but I felt the need to challenge myself and see if I could do it. So, the deal is this. 26 chapters, one for each letter of the alphabet. A mini story for each, I'm hoping nothing over 500 words. **

**Plus, I will give some choices at the end of each chapter for you to choose from. So, if there is one specific word you would like to have the next story be about then this is your chance.**

**I hope you will enjoy and I hope you will send along your thoughts on this if you so wish.**

**P.S. I am partial to Dean so it is likely most chapters will revolve around him. Probably some angst and humour and h/c thrown into the mix. And spoilers from all seasons. I own nothing associated with SPN, except my imagination! :D**

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><p>Apocalypse. Did he just hear the word apocalypse fly out of Bobby's mouth? Yup, the somber look on the older hunter's face matches the one on his brother's so that would be a yes. And him? Well, all he knows for sure is that he hates that damn word. After all, doesn't that basically mean the end of the fricken world? To the planet being used for some sort of death match between good and evil?<p>

He sighs. Yeah, of course it does.

And just who is going to stop that from happening exactly? Who is so out of their mind and have such an obvious death wish that they would willingly take on angels and demons for the fate of the earth? He glances to the other men in the room. Oh yeah, that's right. Him. And Sam. And Bobby. Well, that can't be good. Can't be good for him, or for Sammy, or for Bobby. And that cannot be good for the world either. It's like an episode of the three stooges. Him, the one who started it. Sam, the one who gave Lucifer his pass to come on up. And Bobby, the one who is definitely at the end of his spring chicken-ness.

Can they do it? Probably not. Will they keep up the fight until they either win or die bloody? Yeah, sure. Because really, what other choice do they have?

It's a good thing the folks out there; the ones who are busy leading normal lives, don't know what's going on or what's about to happen. It's a good thing it's only the three men in this damn panic room at this exact moment who know the score. That they, and everyone else on the damn planet, are completely and totally screwed.

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><p><strong>Okay, that's it for A. Here are your choices for B: brothers, broken, bondage or bored. Let me know if you have a preference and I'll see what I can do. Or, if you don't that's okay too, I will pick ;)<strong>

**Let me know what you think if you feel so inclined and thanks for stopping by, I appreciate it! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, well, there is a tie! So I thought to myself, should I be the one to decide? Nah, what fun is that? So, for your reading pleasure I present to all of you following along the next chapter. ****B=Bored+Brothers... We'll see how it works out. Thanks to those out there who have given me the gumption to continue on, I hope this chapter is to your liking! Thanks again! :D**

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><p>"Come on dude, get the lead out!" Dean blows out the air in his cheeks as he seems to wait. And wait. And wait some more for his irritatingly slow brother to figure out just what could be considered healthy eating in yet another fricken greasy spoon; in yet again the middle of nowhere; on the slow road to him losing all sense of whatever thread of patience he had left.<p>

Sam makes some sort of noise but doesn't look up. It's all Dean can do to stop himself from leaping across the damn table and holding a fork to his brother's throat; anything to speed up this long, drawn out process.

His legs start to jump up and down under the table and when he notices a glare from one of the patrons across the aisle, he assumes his 'don't mess with me' look came off just how he wanted it; as the dude looks away to focus on something suddenly interesting out the window.

Sam finally closes the menu and looks to his brother with a definite smirk on his face. A damn smirk. And that is what makes it impossible to reign in the scowl as it arrives and perches itself on his own. "About time dude, I am going nuts over here. Let's just order, eat and get the hell out of this dive okay?"

"What's wrong with you today man? You got somewhere you got to be or something? Just relax man, let's take our time, read the latest and see where we should go next."

The food arrives and another gust of wind escapes from the confines of Dean's lips as he just stares in disbelief; as Sam takes his damn time; as he unwraps the napkin as if it is made of delicate lace; as he drizzles the sauce on his limp salad. Dean watches his brother leisurely open up his laptop and lean back in the booth, complete with full body stretch. The kicker is that the whole time he is still wearing that damn smirk. Dean looks to his own food and even the burger and fries that sit in front of him have lost their appeal. This sucks ass.

He's pretty damn sure he can hear the clock on the wall; and maybe even the crickets outside. He can't sit still for this long. Sure, eating might be something that has to be done but can't it be in a timely fashion? C'mon, he is bored out of his fricken tree here, so he stares at his brother for all it's worth.

"You know dude, the longer you look at me like that the more time I'm gonna take to finish up this oh so delicious meal. You need to chill out and just sit still for like twenty minutes."

What? Dean's lips make a thin line as the realization dawns on him. Sam is doing this on purpose. To piss him off. To mess with him. Because Sam knows his brother well enough to know exactly what buttons to push. Well, nice try but two can play at this game. And Sam should know by now that when he starts this kind of shit Dean is sure the hell gonna finish it.

"Oh, yeah, right. Of course. Tell ya what Sammy, this burger looks so damn delicious that I am going to savour it for..." he stops and makes sure that Sam looks at him as he glances to his watch. "...the next hour. And I'll do it to bro because I would hate to make you scarf down that awesome salad of yours. After all, what are brothers for right?"

Ah, that's better. The look of amusement is now replaced by one of shock and of being out done once again by his big brother. Sammy, such an amateur. Dean will enjoy every single moment; see how well Sammy can handle the boredom because his is now totally gone. Totally erased from existence. The thought of making Sam's little plan backfire in his face has upped the ante, and his need to put this shit hole town behind them is nothing but a memory. Let the game, and Sam's torture, begin.

Dean chuckles as he picks up his burger and bites off just enough to barely get a taste. The moan of pleasure he expels gets the reaction he was hoping for; a deep sigh of frustration from his brother. He looks up from his suddenly delectable meal to meet his brother's eyes. "On second thought Sam, better make that two hours, this is pure heaven."

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><p><strong>I hope it wasn't too terrible! Thanks for your picks, I appreciate it! So, here are your choices for C: crazy, carnage, craving or crash. I'll probably work on the next chapter tomorrow so get your votes in! :D<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay folks, looks like another tie! Whew, you are really making me work here! I hope you will enjoy this installment. C = Crazy+Carnage. Thanks for following and playing along, this is gonna be a lot of fun! :D Spoilers for 6x05.**

**P.S. So much for keeping these under 500 words. Ah well, maybe next chapter! :D**

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><p>It's almost dizzying the way he keeps on killing and killing, then killing some more. Slicing and dicing like his life depends on it. Well, actually, he supposes it does. No thought runs through him other than that they all have to die, nice and bloody, so he can get to the leader; so that he might have at least a chance to live.<p>

There is no fear or hesitation as he strikes the final blow. He thinks he can feel a smirk drift across his face as the body falls slowly to the floor. And, is it irony that the head actually rolls for a second before coming to a dead stop right in front of him? No, it's payback and justice in its finest of forms.

Huh. He takes a deep breath and looks down at the machete in his blood soaked hands. He staggers and suddenly feels the need to sit down as the adrenaline fades and the insanity of the situation hits him. It's kind of a blur. A chop here, and a chop there. A headless body here, a headless body there. He needs this to be over, now. He isn't sure how much more of this shit he can take. The urge to run over to find that damn cooler filled to the brim with blood and take a fricken swig is almost too much to ignore now.

He looks around the dingy warehouse again and blinks to try and clear away his fuzzy vision. He has to do a double take; he can hardly believe what he sees.

He just went completely and utterly apeshit. Nuts. Yeah, it's true, he is currently hopped up on vampire crap but still can't help but marvel at the way the strength and power of it surges around in his blood. Hell, did he actually jump from the second floor without feeling a damn thing? Yup, cuz he was about that close to becoming one of those assholes. But, then again, maybe he already is, just minus the whole drinking human blood thing. He sighs long and deep. He hopes to hell this so called cure is all it's cracked up to be.

It was logic that guided him. Kill or be killed; kill or force his own brother or grandfather to be the one to end it. Talk about no choice. He wasn't going to allow that to happen; to allow Sam to go through losing him in that way was simply out of the question. This, right here, was the only way it could end. He wasn't going to let himself be turned completely, and he sure as hell wasn't gonna let this merry band of murderers continue to prey on the innocents out there in the real world. He shivers at the thought of becoming one of those things for real; of how he is still heading up that shit creek, only now at least the raging river has slowed slightly.

He needed to get to the blood; the blood of the fang that turned him. So if that meant decapitating each and every one of these sons of bitches then he would do it again, in a heartbeat. Heartbeat. He shivers again. It's unnerving to hear the beat of someone else's heart in his ears. He doesn't ever want to hear that again.

He thinks about what it would mean if he turned; what that would make him do. Attack people? Drink their blood? No fricken way. So what if he went a little crazy? He figures he's got a free pass on that for the rest of his damn life.

He sighs again. It's weird though. This is the kind of life he leads. Not bothered in the slightest that he just annihilated all the vamps in the damn place. Alone. Just him, without any back up. Nothing left but carnage. Just headless bodies of people who used to be human. They lay all around and he couldn't care any fricken less.

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><p>He's strong and weak at the same time. His head is swimming; pounding; and he can hear something. A heartbeat. No, two heartbeats. He swears he knows the one. It beats in regular time, gives not one flutter of emotion away. Sam. What is wrong with him?<p>

He shakes his head. Maybe he really is going crazy. There is nothing wrong with Sam. It's him who has got a major case of 'reading too much into things'. Sammy would never be cool and calm in a situation like this; at the thought of his brother turning into a damn fang. It's gotta be the infection; the vile, putrid poison that is running through him. Sam would never just stand there like a mannequin and seemingly not give a shit about him. Right? Yeah, of course. All he needs is to get the hell out of here; head back with Mr. You're Pretty's blood and get this nightmare over and done with.

He hears his brother's voice call out to him. He hears the heartbeat, steady and strong. It's okay though, Sam sees he is safe and his voice is laced with concern. Sam can see he is still breathing so of course he is calm.

He glances down to peer at the mop of black hair under his boot. He smiles. Stupid vamps. They must have misplaced the memo that says not to mess with Dean Winchester.

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><p><strong>There you have it! I hope you enjoyed and thanks for all of your input, I truly appreciate it! So, let's see... For D, here are your choices: Dangerous; Defiant; Demon; Drunk. Let me know what your preference is! Thanks for playing along! :D<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Well folks, this one was tough. Just how does one combine drunk and defiant? Hmmm… I don't really know. But, I forged ahead and this is what I managed to come up with. I hope you enjoy! I had intended to make this chapter a funny one but I had a crappy day when I wrote it so it didn't turn out funny at all. Life influencing art I suppose. :D Thanks as always for reading and sending along your thoughts for the next chapter, I do really appreciate your enthusiasm!**

**P.S. I took a little creative license on part of this... :D**

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><p>Man, he is really starting to hate the feathered freaks. Pretty soon he won't even be able to take a piss without them standing over his shoulder. Peachy. Here they are once again, just fluttering their way in and expecting them to roll over and play dead. Like a pair of damn dogs. Well, no one owns them; no one owns <em>him<em>. It's obvious they don't know the resolve of those named Winchester. Well, they are sure as hell gonna find out.

Well ain't this just perfect? Him, Dean Winchester, hunter; killer of all things evil, is a god damn vessel. _The_ vessel. Shit. _Michael's_ vessel. Ain't that just an unexpected kick in the ass?

He figures it's just one more reason to stick it to the man; to the seemingly inexistent God; to angels; to Heaven and Hell. All this apocalypse, end of the world shit is doing nothing more than ramping up his pissiness level to an unheard of degree. And, the cockiness in Zachariah's face; the smugness that oozes out of him? That is enough to make this hunter's blood boil. That bastard has just made it on the top of his 'the next asshole to kill' list.

The fact that this asswipe of Heaven seems so confident that he will cave and say yes; when doing that will obliterate who knows how many innocent lives, makes him enemy number one. He ain't gonna do squat to help Michael and Lucifer along in their supernatural death match. If anything, it just spurs him on; strengthens his resolve to piss in this bastard's cornflkes at each and every opportunity. Zach is going to get a first hand account at how totally useless it is to try and mess with Dean Winchester.

If all the bible thumpers out there knew what their so called 'saviours' were up to; what they were really like, they would go running and screaming into the hills. These douchebags are just a bunch of babies; and bullies; and spineless dicks who use the power of Heaven and the wrath of God to bend the will of people. Well, it's a good thing that yours truly doesn't believe in any of that shit.

Nice try boys but Dean Winchester does not cave in to pressure; or pain; or even torture. Well, only after 30 years or so but there is no need to go into that right now. Something tells him his feathered foes won't let things last that long. And by the way he sees good old Zachy's jaw start to twitch, he figures pompous angel number one is about two seconds away from a damn aneurysm. Awesome, now that's something he would pay money to see. He smirks a bit and tries to keep the quiver of pain out of his voice.

He tries. Really he does. He ain't quite sure if it eyeballs are still functioning at their peak efficiency but he just keeps up the glare; tries to formulate as much anger and contempt as he can muster in looks alone.

"C'mon, stomach cancer? Is that all you got chuckles? I'm hardly even breaking a sweat over here."

Just another day in the life.

Okay, didn't see that one coming. No lungs for Sam?

"The answer is still no, you feathered son of a bitch. You can tell Michael that he ain't ever getting to me. So, just do whatever it is that you have to and we'll see how happy your boss is when you have to tell him you killed me. Cuz I'm telling you right now, that's the only way this showdown is gonna end."

His life is so weird. So to recap, no lungs for Sam? Oh well.

Stomach cancer for him? Job hazard.

Seeing the face of the usually cocky and full of himself angel gloss over into frustration with a side order of disbelief? Fricken priceless.

"I have another idea, how about we just take care of that carefully constructed wall of yours instead then, hey Dean-o? C'mon slugger, how much of your own loathing and guilt and shame do you really think you can take? Hmm? How much of all that deep seeded pain will it take to make your arrogant ass beg for it to stop? And it can stop. All of this can stop so easily. Just one little word Dean and all this goes away. Say yes."

Shit. Well, that just can't be good. Ah hell, why not, he was getting a bit bored anyway.

"I've got the patent on arrogance you prick. Plus, the answer will still be no you balless sack of shit. So what do you say we stop tip toeing around and bring it on!"

"With pleasure…"

He doesn't hear whatever else that bastard's got to say because hell, he is too busy trying to keep his cool while his mind is inundated with every single image he has spent so long burying deep inside. They play like an endless slideshow and he may even have forgotten how to breathe just then. Maybe he can hear Sam trying to call out his name but there is no doubt that he can hear the echo of that angel's laughter in his ear.

Just as suddenly as it had started, the images end. He gasps in a breath of air and steadies his quivering body from the onslaught. His hands go on his knees and he manages to whisper a less than intimidating "That all you got?" before he sinks to the floor like his bones have just been ripped from his body.

"Ready now Dean? Ready to say yes?"

He takes a deep breath. Then one more. He is not going to say yes. Not now, not ever. If he can live through the fires of Hell, a little piss ant angel ain't gonna make him suffer more than he already has.

As he stands, the rigidness of defiance and numbing hatred bubble up and make him whole again. No way is this dick going to win. No freakin' way. Now that he knows what to expect he can play this game all damn night. He has to. Because he can never, ever say yes.

"Puh-lease, I've had nightmares worse than that, dickless. Hell, even my daydreams put your little freakshow to shame. Just face it man, you ain't gonna break me. Ever. I mean c'mon, if you're gonna play you gotta at least make an effort Zach."

He emphasizes his nonchalance and boredom with an orchestrated and over the top yawn. To add insult to injury he stretches slowly, looks to his watch and then flashes his best grin at the shocked angel. Game on.

He closes his eyes to get the angel's face out of his view. He raises his hands to his ears as if to keep his brains from leaking out. He is bombarded with horror after horror. Flashes of memories threaten to tear his sanity into strands. But he can't let it. He can't say yes. And damn it, he won't.

He opens his eyes and tries to focus on Zachariah through the assault of images.

"THE…..ANSWER…. STILL….N…N…NOOOOOOOOO!"

There is white light in the distance and as the images start to dissipate from his head, he blinks to try and reign his emotions back in. Damn, that hurt like a son of a bitch.

He's pretty sure he sees Cas and Sam but… wait, Cas? And, where the hell is Zach hiding? Coward.

Aw hell, the whole thing hurts his head so he takes the easy way out and welcomes the approaching darkness.

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><p>Maybe he should stop. Hell, he can stop whenever he wants but he is only getting started. He can still remember, he can still think, and that just ain't good enough. His intention is to cease and desist all types of memories and all kinds of rational thought. He ain't gonna talk about it, he is just going to sit there and drink until the alcohol replaces blood as the dominant liquid in his veins. He earns it after tripping the Dean Winchester life fantastic, thanks to Zachariah and his forced journey down the brutal version of 'This Is Your Life'.<p>

Great, Sam is here. Let the lecture begin.

"I think you should stop now Dean, just come back to the motel with me."

Huh. That's rich. Who does Sam think he is anyways? He is the older one, he doesn't have to listen to his little brother and right now he just wishes he would get out of his face and leave him the hell alone. Sam doesn't know what's best for him; what he needs; he is the only one who knows what will make it better; what will make the flashbacks stop.

"Nuh uh... m'busy..."

"Right. What you gonna do, stay here all night until you can't even stand up?"

Now he's getting it. Good for you Sam, you finally understand.

"Ding, ding, ding! Exactly bro! Problem is, I can still feel something. Don't know what exactly but it feels like shit and I don't want to play anymore. So why don't you take your buzzkill attitude and walk it right out the door along with your freakishly gigantic body. Comprende Samantha?"

That's it bro, there's the pissed off, why do I even bother with Dean look he was going for. Dean knew he had it in him. C'mon dude, enough with the laser eyes already. You can't make him go anywhere and you know it. Don't make him bring out the big guns, just sashay yourself away get the hell out of Dodge and let him drown it all away.

"Nope, sorry dude, I am not leaving you alone. You don't wanna talk about it then that's fine but I am worried and you are just going to have to put up with me."

Perfect. What is he doing? Well, what do you know, Sam just ordered himself a drink. Fine. He is not in the mood to argue and if it keeps his brother's mouth shut then he can stay.

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><p>"Dean? Time to go man. Place is closing up."<p>

He swivels his blurry eyeballs to the stool beside him. Sam? He isn't sure when the hell his brother made his appearance but he don't much care. Awesome, in fact, he doesn't care about anything right now. Can't remember too much about when he got here or how long he's been here but the fuzziness in his brain and the marbles in his mouth tell him it's been a while. Cool, he can't even remember what it was that he was trying to forget. Mission accomplished.

He tries to get up off his stool but the world tilts and he crashes against the bar. He feels the grip of his brother on him and is silently thankful that he won't have to try and maneuver his own drunk ass from here to the motel. After all, ain't that what little brothers are for?

"I got you man. Let's get out of here."

He tries to smile up at his baby brother then, tries to say something to thank him for coming to his rescue but all he can manage to force out from his lips is an alcohol induced and slurred version of "thks...smmmy"

His brother laughs and as they stumble their way out into the night his heart clenches a bit but he isn't sure why. Whatever it is that he was running from is one hell of a doozy and he shivers slightly, at the fact that after he sleeps it off it is going to come back and crash down on him. Oh well, not right now at least. Not right now.

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><p><strong>Okay, that's it. Not sure if it's any good so feel free to let me know what you thought of it! So... E? Ummm... Escape, Envy, Excite, Enrage... Thanks for stopping by, I appreciate it muchly! :)<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello out there! Thank you for coming back for another installment of Alphabet Adventures! Today's chapter is brought to you by the letter E. I am excited to say that we have an 'E' winner! Today's chapter will be about Envy. Thanks as always for playing along and being so gracious with your comments. I hope you enjoy! :D**

**Set in Season 1.**

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><p>Well, he wanted the chance at a normal life. I always wondered what that would be like and here I am, getting an outsider's view of normalcy. And boy, does it suck being on the outside.<p>

I mean, just look at this place. Look at this life. While I'm stuck in the world of monsters; of skeevy motel rooms; of masquerading as someone I'm not, with enough fake credit cards and ID's to finance and populate a small country, he gets all this? No wonder he vanished off the face of the earth. When you think about it, who would want the life of someone like me when you can have so much more.

A home. He has a real home; not a place where you merely exist but a true place to hang your hat. It's filled with actual things; actual furniture and shit, and can I smell the remnants of a home cooked meal? Damn, he is one lucky son of a bitch. No wonder he lost my number. He sure as hell doesn't have to shove everything he owns into a duffle bag every day of his damn life.

Friends. He has friends, people who actually give a crap about him. I don't have that, I never did. I can't have that, I'm not allowed. So what do I have? Who do I have? Dad, and he ain't usually too friend-ish either. He gets to feel what it's like to 'socialize'. Huh, that's just an out of reach word to me. Because what do I get? I get to feel the wrath of dad's frustration, of his regiment, of his anger and pain. I get to hear over and over that if I, if we, stop doing what we are doing, if I take the same path and walk out the door, people will die. People. Will. Die. No pressure there huh?

Me. Alone. The dutiful son, left to pick up the pieces and stitch up the gaping wounds. My life sucks ass.

I wish I was him.

And look at that. He gets to have a smoking hot and totally into him girlfriend. If he only knew how much I want to be able to care for someone like that, to have someone care about me that way in return. But no, can't have that, can't be truly happy. Hell, I'm not around long enough for anything but a meaningless romp before I have to pull up stakes and leave them in the dust.

He has gotten to know what it means to have an actual life. Must have been nice to just walk away from it all. To put the life behind you and pretend it never existed in the first place. I wish I could have done that; could of had the balls to stand up to dad and tell him that maybe I don't want to do this for the rest of my fricken life. But how could I? How could I leave him all alone when one of his sons already abandoned him? Plus, I can't do anything else, this is the only world I know. I'm not smart enough to be anything else. The truth hurts.

I wish I was him.

Dad protected him from it all. Made sure he wouldn't find out about it until the last possible moment. But me? Hell, I found out on the drive from our smoldering house that there are demons and monsters, not only in my dreams but walking around among us. Go to bed with the thoughts of a 'normal' kid, wake up to have my life and childhood destroyed. Ah well, at least one of us got to be a damn kid for a while.

I wish I still had enough humanity in me to care. But I don't, I can't. Can't get attached to anyone or anything. Not anymore. Gotta be all business, all the time. Fly in, kill whatever son of a bitch is lurking around, and then fly out. No time to get to know people, to care about them.

I wish I didn't have to put up this damn front all the fricken time. Smile and charm my way through the crowd and through life. 'Sorry about your loss, what happened, can I see the crime scene and the body?' Shit, I'm so used to it that it doesn't even dawn on me that I am working through person after person to get to what I need to know. Using them like pawns in some kind of fricked up game of supernatural chess.

I wish I was him.

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><p>I wish I was him.<p>

At least he got to know mom. At least he was held and talked to lovingly. At least he remembers her face. At least he had a home. All I have known are dingy motels in little piss ant shit holes that aren't even big enough to show up on a map. I remember the smell of alcohol on dad's breath; the constant training and yelling and fights. He wasn't shit on at every opportunity; wasn't treated like some outsider looking in on the Winchester version of life. I only got to see and know the broken shell of the man, not the real John Winchester. At least he got to know him as a father.

He doesn't have any responsibilites. He just roams around the country in that stupid car with his out of date music, picking up a girl here and a girl there, no strings attached. He uses his looks and smile to get even the most unwilling participant to cave into his demands, the charm just oozes out of him without any effort at all. Hell, he enjoys it too. He doesn't even bat one damn eyelash as he flashes a grin and a badge and just waltzes right in as if he owns the place. I've been forced back into this downward spiral of a life and it unnerves me every time we lie; every time we steal; every time we use people to find out the truth. And yet, there he is, performing all of those things like a master. Without one care in the world.

He is so confident and sure about what he is doing, never any doubt about the life. He never struggles within himself as to whether he is doing the right thing, whether he should be something else. He has no inner battle constantly raging around in his brain about whether he is supposed to do this, he just knows.

I have lost every dream, every hope I have had because of this damn life and what has he lost? Not one damn thing.

I wish I was him.

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><p><strong>I know. Sam's POV was short but I originally wasn't going to add in anything at all for Sam. Like I said, I am more of a Dean fan so his view comes more naturally to me. At any rate, I hope it was alright. So, 'F' is next, and here are your choices. Fear. Futility. Foolish. Forgiveness. Choose wisely my friends! Thanks again for stopping by! :D<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Fear and Forgiveness… hmm… I don't know if I really did justice to either of those themes this time around. I had a request to make this chapter humorous so I have given it my best shot but am not too sure how it worked out. I hope you will enjoy it anyways! Sorry for the delay, this one kind of stumped me…. As always, thanks so much for playing along, I appreciate it! :D**

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><p>He hates clowns. Absolutely and without a doubt the creepiest, most useless things in the world. But at least now it seems he had good reason, he knew they were bad. After all, here they are, on the hunt for a killer clown. Maybe now Dean will shut it with his stupid comments and jibes and ….<p>

"Are you gonna be okay bro? I mean, he may come at you with a squirting flower, or make you piss yourself when he sneaks up on you with his horn or something."

Then again, this is Dean he's talking about.

"Can you shut up about it for one damn minute Dean? This is serious, people are dying. A killer clown? I think that pretty much solidifies what I've known all along, those things are evil. Weird, freaky, definitely evil things. You can stop with your smart assness now dude, I was right about this!"

"Hmm, let me think about that... Um, no, that ain't gonna happen dude cuz that doesn't change the fact that you are scared of freakin clowns!"

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><p>Shit. Face to face with the thing he had nightmares about as a kid. He feels frozen to the spot but is spurred into action as the knife starts to descend towards his brother's writhing body; his brother who is currently pinned to the alter like some god damn sacrifice. Well, no way is a damn clown gonna kill his brother. No. Damn. Way.<p>

"Hey… uh… CLOWN!"

Okay, that was pretty lame. Shit. Now he's staring at me. Damn it, And Dean is staring at me staring at him. Dean is soooo busted, dude looks terrified. He never, ever gets to bring this topic up again…ever!

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><p>Huh, well that was remarkably uneventful, who would have thought the damn thing would be so easy to kill? Take that you over the top puppet from Hell. What? Christ, whatever, at least the thing is dead and gone.<p>

"Dean? You okay man?"

"Yeah but, fricken clowns dude, add those mothers to the list of things I hate. Damn creepy bastards."

What? Oh man, this is way too golden an opportunity to pass up.

"Oh really. So, you think they're creepy now too? So maybe I was right after all to have some misgivings about them?"

"Well, what can I say? Being seconds away from bled out by one kinda changes a dude's perspective. Thanks bro, that was a close one."

Yeah. It was. Dean looks shaken up, better get his mind off of how close he actually came to being gutted by that damn bastard.

"No problem, you'd do the same for me. And, so, anything else to say? Like maybe it's time to let the clown comments go?"

"Come on dude, I can't make any promises. Fine, don't want you to cry. Umm… maybe you had a reason to get your panties in a bunch about them all these years bro."

"Wow, that was almost poetic Dean. I bet it hurt too."

Okay, there's the smirk I know.

"You'll never know how much dude. Well, that's all your getting Sam so take it or leave it."

"Oh, I'll take it Dean."

"Alright then. So, can we get the hell out of here now? I'm beat."

"Sure man, let's head out."

"Sam? I… I mean, I'm... well...clowns? I guess I... well... I kind of gave you a hard time about them and... well..."

Boy, this is way too painful. And Dean definitely looks like he's ready to faceplant so time to end this awkward attempt at an apology and get his 'kicked by a clown' ass back to the motel.

"It's okay dude, don't hurt yourself. I forgive you."

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><p><strong>Yes, I know... lame... but hey, thems the breaks sometimes! :) So... we are on to letter G then? Umm.. okay, here are the choices: Gravity; Gank; Gross; Giggle. Make sure to put a vote in for what you want the next chapter to be about! Hope you enjoyed and hope to see you next time! :D<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello and welcome back for letter 'G'... The winner was gravity however I think I managed to put a dose of gross, gank and giggle in there just a bit. So, I hope as always that you enjoy and don't forget to let me know what your picks for 'H' are... :D Thanks for playing along! **

**P.S. Sorry Elise, couldn't quite manage your request this time... ;)**

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><p>His eyes widen at the impossibility of this particular predicament having any sort of happy ending, because realistically it never, ever does. He has seen this kind of shit play out so many times but he never gets used to it, it always makes him sick to his damn stomach. Dean. In trouble. Again.<p>

Dean. He's right there. Right at the other end of the room, only he isn't alone. This time he is being held in the clutches of some undead piece of crap, and the spirit that holds him is getting pretty damn close to snapping his damn neck like a twig.

Dean notices him as Sam slowly makes his way around the crevasse that now stands where the floor used to be; before it caved and crashed to the cellar beneath. And, of course, his struggling brother still manages to send him a smile.

Sam watches as that smile dissipates into nothingness and Dean turns his gaze to the now corporeal apparition dangling him like a worm over a lake filled with piranhas. The older brother's eyes shine bright with hate and defiance and a healthy helping of Dean's famous kick 'em in the ass attitude.

"say…adios you… ugly… piece of… skanky…shit.. yer…done…"

Shit Dean. Bravado has its time and place and Sam thinks his brother's timing is definitely off on this one. Sure enough, the spirit tilts her head slightly and Sam knows the gig is up and his attempts at stealth have just been thwarted by his own damn brother.

Seemingly undeterred by Sam's presence, she presses her bony hand further into the skin of his brother's neck and Sam watches as Dean's eyes close and his features cloud over in pain. The agony in his face softens as she slowly eases up the pressure and Sam has never wanted to kill anything so badly in his life. She is toying with them and she will pay for it.

"Gah…. Sam… just… g..g…gank the bitch already! I…m'good."

Well shit. He hates this. Don't do it and that skank will just keep squeezing until his brother's neck breaks. Do it, and Dean will be at the mercy of god damn gravity. Sam peers down the gaping hole that leads to the basement below and cringes at the thought of Dean careening downward into that mash of horror.

This stupid whore has been killing unabashedly for who knows how long. The bodies of her victims lay awkward and upended in a sea of twisted limbs and blood. Some have long since turned to bones while others seem to be moving, as the smell of decomposing meat has drawn out insects of every kind to dine on and begin to devour the mountains of overabundant, rotting flesh.

The decision becomes clear to Sam the instant cold, lifeless eyes turn to face him. Damn, that is one uglier than ugly broad. Her gaze focuses on the hole beneath her suspended in air body, and when her pale eyes come to meet his once more, he shivers as a toothless smile descends on her face and threatens to crack it in half. And… did she just shrug? Shit. She knows the decision he has to make but one thing she doesn't know about the Winchester boys, they never leave the scene and let an evil son of a bitch have a chance at coming back for seconds. Her time on earth is through.

One last look at Dean and a nod that instils in him that this is the way it has to be, and Sam takes out the lighter and lets 'er rip.

Sam should be used to the sounds. The scream of the spirit, the fire that engulfs it and the moan of pain that comes from his brother as the hold is released. But this time, not only does he have to endure the sounds, he has to be witness to his brother's flailing appendages try to grab on to something, anything to prevent him from his plummet into the carnage below. Arms and legs scatter and jut out and Dean's journey comes to an abrupt stop half way down, the remnants of a support beam serving as the lifeboat that avoids his plunge into the sea of blood and bone.

"Dean? You okay man…"

Sam wonders for a moment if a screw has undone itself as the echo of laughter rings up from the depths.

"Dean?"

"Oh sure man… M'good…never freakin better… our lives are so fricken weird…uh..dude…. help a brother out?"

Shit. He's been so busy gawking that he kind of forgot his brother is still hanging on by a damn fingernail.

"Oh yeah, right. Sorry. Don't go anywhere…"

"Hilarious... just hurry up Samsquatch... fricken reeks down here..."

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><p><strong>There you have it, hope you enjoyed. Choices for H: Hero; Haunted; Horror; Hostage. I look forward to seeing your choices and thanks as always for taking the time to read, review and play along! :D<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello all! Well… H belongs to…. HOSTAGE! Thanks so much for playing along, it really is fun to see what words people vote for! I appreciate all the lovely comments and reviews and I hope you will enjoy this latest instalment! :D**

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><p>Ordinary people. Shit. Those freaks are the worst. Motivated by greed or any other of the sins, and they seem to be willing to do anything to get it. Un-fricken-believable. It's amazing that God or whatever entity is floating around up there lets this go on. Huh, maybe they just watch and laugh. Laugh at us little apes.<p>

Okay man, just focus, little Sammy needs you. Huh, it staggers the imagination. How is it exactly that a giant such as himself can manage to get hoodwinked and hogtied into this kind of damn mess anyways? Oh yeah, right. Because of the bleeding heart, I can help you attitude of his, that's freakin' how. Figures. Niceness has gone the way of the do-do Sam, you are a dying breed. Good thing you have a cynical, not gonna buy into every damn sob story that crosses his path brother, because then who would save your 'not everyone is bad' ass?

"Sam? Hang tight man, I'll get these assholes taken care of in a jiffy. Unless of course this is what you had in mind when you said you wanted to help?"

Oooo, that got the yahoos attention. Hello, didn't really see me sneak up on your party did ya?

"Hiya fellas, nice night for a smack down ain't it? How's about you untie my little brother there and we all just decide to call it even and walk away? I mean, I'd hate to make you any uglier than you already are cuz man, that would just be all kinds of nasty."

Okay, attention is focused on me. That's good. Keep it coming man, get them away from Sam.

"Now, why don't you put your testosterone back in your jeans before you force my hand and make me open up a can of whoop ass on ya. What do you say? Don't go away mad, just go away. Man, I love that line, never get tired of using it on scum like you."

C'mon Sam, don't give me the hairy eyeball. What, so I'm slightly outnumbered but three against one? Those odds are still in my favour, I should tie a damn hand behind my back just to make it slightly challenging. Just look at them, they're eyeing me up like I grew another head or something. They think I'm crazy and that makes them easy targets. Stupid humans got no idea who the frick they are messing with.

"Hey buddy, if you're gonna look at me like that the very least you can do is buy me a damn drink first."

Ah, there it is. Ugly face number one, must be the leader of this fricked up loser posse. So, take the leader out and the others will scurry away like damn dogs with their tails between their legs. Piece of cake.

That's it. All eyes on me boys.

"Are we gonna keep up with this slow dance fellas or do you actually want to rumble?"

Okay, need to up the ante cuz Sammy needs a distraction to keep working on those ropes. Make it count bro, I'm putting my foot in it big time now.

"Jesus, maybe I've got it all wrong. I could have sworn you were dudes, but looks like none of you got the sack to actually take me on. I should have guessed. That's the trouble with inbreeding these days. No. Damn. Balls."

Huh, okay, well maybe I was a bit wrong with my tail between the legs thing but hell, one down and two to go right? Alright Sammy, time to work the Houdini magic now. They ain't running and I get the feeling they have forgotten all about you and are intent on tearing me a plethora of new ones.

"That all you got man? Did your sister… uh, I mean your _wife_ teach you how to punch?"

Fricken son of a bitch. Okay you bastard, that fricken hurt. Damn it, doesn't anyone just use their fists anymore? Gotta bring a knife to the damn party?

Sam, I could use a little help here. This is damn humiliating. Am I really poised in the unflattering foetal position? Are my ribs actually getting up close and personal with someone's damn boot? And hell, did someone just spit on me?

That's better. Finally. Must have come to their senses and took off. Just in time too, I was about that close to bringing out the big guns.

Shit. Not again. "Get your mitts off me you god damn…. "

"Relax Dean, it's me."

"Oh, uh, hey dude."

Wow. I think I missed something. Maybe it's the double vision making things fuzzy and blurry as shit, but I'm pretty sure Sam is towering over me and those three yahoos are sprawled out and unconscious at his feet. That's my boy.

"You okay Sam? Kicked some ass huh?"

"Yeah man, we did. C'mon bro, I got ya."

"Awesome."

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><p><strong>There you have it folks, I hope you enjoyed!<strong>

**Choices for 'I': Instigate; Ignite; Intravenous; Insanity**

**Thanks for stopping by and again, I appreciate your enthusiasm for this! :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**So, the 'I's have it… I as in INSANITY that is! I didn't really have one single notion in my brain as to what the hell kind of web I could weave featuring that most interesting of words. Man, I really did myself in on this particular chapter. But, alas, I hope I did manage to conjure up some sort of insanity. I'm currently hopped up on cold meds so not really sure how it worked out ... you be the judge….**

**As always, thanks so much for your continued enthusiasm with this story, your comments and votes truly make this a wonderful experience!**

**I do have some swear words in this... I have NEVER used the F bomb in any of my previous stories and it feels...weird... **

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><p>"Put your weapons on the ground nice and slow or I will shoot you where you stand. Do it. Now."<p>

He takes a closer look; eyes the pair up and can't help but fixate on the blood. It's everywhere. They are covered in it. It's on their faces and hands; smeared into their hair and on their clothing; it's even on their boots. It looks like he stumbled straight into a horror movie, complete with the unsettling colour of crimson splattered like a complicated tapestry laid out on the ground haphazardly, splashes of red working its way onto the walls that line the alleyway. These two are a couple of grade A nut jobs and he curses to himself at the fact that he let Davis talk him into working his shift. Never, ever again.

He grabs his radio and tries to keep the quiver out of his voice.

"I need back up and an ambulance at the corner of uh, Singer and Campbell. Two suspects with..um..god damn machetes just finished hacking up like five people so send everyone you got!"

_"Back up is on the way. Don't approach, suspects are armed and dangerous and..."_

"No fucking shit! I do have eyes and they are looking right at the bastards, so send whatever you can! I don't care if it's a damn helicopter or a fire truck or a tank because I _have_ approached and I need fucking back up!"

The shorter of the pair isn't even looking at him; he's focused on the bodies strewn about in the alley way. Jesus, it's like he's mesmerized by the art he created with his knife. The murdering son of a bitch is staring with eyes so cold, distant and almost lifeless that he can't help the shiver that crawls along his spine and nestles itself nice and comfortable into his chest. These two must be the crazies that escaped on their way to the god damn loony bin a few miles down the road; after they created the same bloodbath over in the next town. Shit. Figures they would make their appearance on his fucking shift.

"Listen officer. I know this looks bad but I'm telling you, we're the good guys and you need to let us finish this before they get up, and trust me, you don't want them to do that. You need to walk away before it's too late."

His finger squeezes slightly on the trigger and he gives them what he hopes is a real nasty look to offset the bile he feels churning in his gut. "Before they get up! What the hell do you take me for, a damn idiot? None of these poor people are going to get up and continue on with their lives, you made sure of that. I'd say by the looks of your handiwork I don't need much of a reason to pump you assholes full of lead. So... put the weapons down."

He hears a slight rustle behind him and slowly backs up to take a look while keeping his eyes trained on the pair in front of them. My God. One of them is still alive. He isn't sure how that's possible since the woman, well he figures it's a woman by the long, blood-matted hair stuck to her head; looks like all the fluids once stored in her body are surrounding her in a river of red.

"God, you two are a couple of sick fucks..."

He hears her voice call out to him and plead for help. He turns to face her then; to try and ease her suffering while she waits to die.

"Help is on the way miss. Just don't move, you're safe now, they can't hurt you anymore."

And that one moment; that one second where he casts his eyes to the poor woman is all it takes for him to make the biggest rookie mistake ever. Number one in the welcome to the police force handbook. Never, ever take your gaze off the threat.

The unmistakable sound of rapid footsteps registers in his ears and he assumes he is about two seconds away from losing an appendage or two courtesy of one of those damn blades. He has never been a shoot first, ask questions later type of guy but the hell if he is going to add his own severed limbs and blood type to the macabre selection already painting the pavement. He turns and fires out of panic and desperation and the overwhelming need of self-preservation; the need to remain in one piece.

The gunshot echoes in the alley and he is satisfied by the grunt of pain; the litany of expletives and the clang of the machete as it skitters along the pavement that at least one of those assholes is out for the duration. Before he can focus in on the second man; the man who is screaming the name 'Dean' and hollering 'Look out!'; before he can squeeze off another round, he is grabbed and yanked back with such force that the wind is knocked out of him and his ears start to buzz. What the hell?

His gun is stripped out of his hand like it's a damn toy and he feels pressure on his chest. His vision clears and he gazes in horror at the woman; the same woman who moments ago was pleading for her life, as her mouth, her fucked up mouth starts to descend towards his damn neck. He struggles with all his might to get the bitch off of him, the whole time his mind is racing, unable to believe what his eyes are telling him. What the fuck is this shit? She's... she's got razor sharp teeth and a smile that would put the word sinister to shame.

"Get the fuck off of me!"

"Thanks for saving me mister policeman. If you wouldn't have come along when you did, tweedle dum and tweedle dee over there would have finished me off. Don't worry, I'll be quick, you'll be dead before it even registers how much it hurts."

His eyes goes wide as he anticipates those damn teeth sinking into his jugular like some kind of fucking...

"...vampire..."

This can't be happening. This isn't real, vampires don't actually exist. He's gone nuts, that's it, he's not even here, he's probably drugged up in some mental ward somewhere.

"Too bad you forgot about me, you heartless, undead bitch."

As she turns to face the taller of the men, he wastes no time in swinging the blade and chopping her head clean off.

"You okay officer?" The genuine concern on the young man's face seems so out of place among the blood and gore that litters every stupid corner of the alley. All he can manage to do is nod his head and begin to slowly extricate himself from the headless body laid out on top of him.

Without another word, the man who just saved his life from a... a vampire... darts towards the other bodies and methodically decapitates each one where the head is still attached. He makes quick work of it and it looks to him like he did it without even breaking a sweat. He watches as the man then makes his way back to Dean, who currently has a hand pressed into the bullet wound in his shoulder.

He can hear the sirens bellow in the distance and he gazes towards the street before turning back to focus on the two men once again.

"Get 'em man?"

"Yeah, their blood sucking days are over. Relax bro, I got you. We need to get out of here. Can you walk?"

So, not homicidal maniacs then, but vampire killing brothers. Sure, that's much easier to accept.

"Yeah Sam, m'good, just a flesh wound. I've had worse."

"Don't tell me, you're fine right? Smart ass."

They don't give him another glance as Dean is helped to a somewhat standing position and they begin to meander their way towards the street beyond.

"Wait.. please, I... what..."

Dean stops suddenly and although he doesn't turn around, the injured man's voice come through loud and clear.

"Yes, vampires are real. So are werewolves and demons and ghosts. So congratulations, you can now spend the rest of your damn life knowing that the horrors of your childhood actually exist. I'm sorry man, but you are gonna be screwed up forever, just like us."

All he can do is watch the duo as they slowly limp their way down the darkened corridor and slip out of sight. He wonders just who the hell these two brothers are; wonders if he will ever have to see this kind of shit again; wonders how the fuck he is going to continue on now that he has seen the truth.

He rubs a shaking hand down his face and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. When he opens them again he sighs in frustration. He is still there. The alley is still covered in blood and gore and limbs and headless bodies, and he wishes more than anything that he really was locked away somewhere with a straight jacket. Shit. Dean was right.

As of this moment he is officially fucked up.

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><p><strong>Well, there you have it for 'I'... hope you enjoyed! :D<strong>

**Choices for 'J': Justice; Jack-O-Lantern; Junkyard; Jittery**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello all! Thanks for coming back for another instalment! So, it was a close race but the winner is... JITTERY! :D I hope you enjoy and thanks sooo much for your continuing support and lovely enthusiasm for this, I appreciate it as always!**

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><p>He has watched them, and can see that they are each unravelling right in front of him; being undone slow and sure like, and it is a painful process to witness. If they don't do something, and soon, they are both gonna be swallowed down and spit out like a bad trip to the buffet line.<p>

One shakes and fidgets while he waits to get his next hit; the other sputters and gasps and fights with memories of Hell itself. They think he doesn't notice, that they are being stealthy like god damn ninjas or some shit, but he ain't stupid. And he wasn't born yesterday. He knows them. He knows the life they have led and the deals they have made. He knows the guilt and anguish that swirls around them like a tornado, as it waits silently to strike the final blow. It threatens to disintegrate them into a whirlwind of broken and bloody pieces; threatens to scatter them across the ground and wash them away in the torrent of the tidal wave, as their levees finally splinter and crack. They each wear their own torment, like some kind of fricked up version of a boy scout badge on their sleeve. And it is going to demolish them both.

One can't stop himself from craving it; from using it to feel powerful and strong, to try and exact the Winchester brand of revenge. Revenge for his brother. Revenge on the bitch that laughed and cackled merrily as his brother was torn apart right in front of his eyes. He gets it, really, and if he was in the same position he would try to send that whore back to the blackened pit she crawled up from just as eagerly. But the method is tearing him apart. He may not realize it but the signs are all there. The constant movement, the panicked looks and the inability to sit still for one damn minute are clues to someone jonesing for the sauce.

The other can't admit to his anguish, can't talk about whatever happened in the pit. But all the jokes and sarcasm can't erase it, it is written and painfully etched all over his face; in the bags that hang down from his once sparkling eyes; in the way he hangs his head low when he thinks he is alone; in the way he has found solace in and has become best friends with Jack. He may not realize it but the signs are all there. The constant movement, the panicked looks and the inability to sit still for one damn minute are all clues to someone trying desperately to keep one step ahead of the nightmares, the flashbacks and the horror of Hell itself. The way he runs head-on into the next case without so much as a catnap; the way he drives twelve hours or more straight; the way he twitches and sweats and groans in his sleep are classic symptoms of someone grappling to keep his sanity intact.

He takes his hat off and rubs a hand over his scalp. He chuckles at the thought that each of those boys has added to his receding hairline, his own lack of a decent night's sleep, and the ever increasing need for a good stiff drink. Hell, he's grabbed the bottle more often than ever before and each of those boys has had a different role in that.

As he sits and stews; as he closes his eyes and revels in the sweetness of the whiskey as its aroma reaches his nose, he stops as the glass rattles against his teeth. He opens his weary eyes to take notice of his hands. Damn it, they are shaking, and the bundle of nerves that twist and tighten in his gut reach an almost fever pitch. He sighs deep and slow to try and calm the storm of pent up emotions building up inside him. He throws back the amber liquid and relishes the burn as it slides down his throat and tries to warm the coldness that has infiltrated his soul.

He slams the glass on the desk, mutters to himself about Hell and demons and the damn apocalypse and those stubborn idjits, and starts to pour another round.

"Bobby? You okay man?"

Shit, his whole body jumps as he is plucked from his inner dialogue and thrust back into the present. If he hadn't already finished the tilt of the bottle into the glass, he's sure he would be wearing it. He looks up and sees them. One looks like your basic strung out drug addict, the other like he hasn't slept for the last thirty years or so.

But, mixed in with the sleep deprivation and the fidgets, he sees something else. He sees both their faces filled with concern. For him. Damn it. He clears his throat and looks down at the desk as the sting of tears threaten to explode from his eyes and spill out. But the hell if he is gonna give these two one more reason to self-destruct.

"Kinda jumpy aren't ya old man? Maybe you should have yourself a little siesta dude, you look beat."

"Shut up smart ass. Get your butts over here, I think I got us a lead."

A flicker of a smirk and a wringing of the hands from one. A false grin, a nod, and another well placed smart ass comment from the other. Typical. The boys plop themselves in their usual positions across from him and, as he dives into his book and begins his spiel about what seal is next on their crusade to save the world, the realization hits him hard.

Shit. He ain't no different than these two. Another shake of his hand and another grab for his glass confirms it. And if he knows that they are putting up a well-crafted front, then they know he is busy doing the same thing. Because he ain't stupid, and neither are they. Balls. He looks up from his book and stares into their eyes. There is an unspoken bond there. The knowledge and acceptance that all three of them are teetering on the edge of the precipice; that all three are one glass, one drink, or one nightmare away from plummeting into the world of hopelessness and despair.

Damn this life.

"Alright then Bobby, you have our undivided attention. How are we gonna try and save the world?"

Okay, down to business. Sure, the fidgeting is still there, along with the haunted looks and the casual grip around the glass, but they will continue on as they always have. They will each face their own torments head on; will do whatever they can and whatever it takes to spare the rest of humanity from being sucked down into Hell right along with them, even if it destroys them all.

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><p><strong>Thanks for stopping by, I hope you enjoyed! :D<strong>

**K: Kidnap; Killer; Kamikaze; Karate**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello everyone and welcome back. I decided to lighten things up by about a thousand degrees so I hope that this little ditty delivers a giggle or two. It's silly and took about fifteen minutes to write so I apologize ahead of time for its super goofiness! I tried to incorporate ALL the words and attempted to add something 'kinky' in at someone's request ;) Enjoy!**

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><p>"Shit, get the hell out of… move it dude!"<p>

"No fricken way Sam!"

"Facing off against a car is suicide man!"

"The pros call it the kamikaze move Sam. Relax, I know what I'm doing."

"Huh, and just how does one become a pro at suicide? You do realize none of those kamikazes actually made it back right?"

"You always get hung up on the details Sam. All I know is that undead piece of crap asshole is trying to kidnap my baby!"

"Dean! Jesus, let go of the damn… shit… Dean! A stupid car is not worth serving yourself up as an order of road kill!"

"Stop nagging and start lighting the fire dude!"

_Stupid idiot and his stupid car. No pressure on me I guess. Fine. Oh shit. Where the hell did it…_

"Hey! Asswipe! Surprise! Yeah, it's me, guess you weren't expecting to see me again huh? Now, get your grimy, rotting flesh, goopy mitts off my girl! SAM! TIME TO FLICK THE BIC BRO!"

_What the hell is he doing? Man, he is such a…. ouch, that must have hurt._

"DEAN! YOU OKAY MAN?"

"Fricken peachy."

"BE RIGHT THERE!"

"NO PROBLEM, I'LL JUST ENTERTAIN OUR FRIEND HERE! Alright chuckles, time for a little mano a mano fight, winner gets the… umph… girl... which is exactly the way you punch douchebag."

"ONE MORE SECOND!"

"Hey, no need to… umph…rush… Just another day of me getting my damn clock cleaned by a maggot infected corpse! HA! Take that fugly!"

_Okay, got the fluid.. got the salt, got the match. Time to light it up. There. Bye bye bad guy. Stupid ass brother and his stupid ass car._

"You okay man?"

"M'good Sammy. Right as rain."

"Uh yeah, okay. And dude, did you really just try and karate chop that guy?"

"I was stalling so you could get your ass in gear bro. And what do you mean try, I almost took him out with that killer move."

"Right. Better leave that to the what the pros call um, people who actually know karate, cuz you looked like a major goof."

"Ouch, that stings Sam."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Wait, where are you..."

"Shit. Oh no, You okay baby? Sorry but I had to do it, had to steer you into that dumpster, that douche was gonna get away with you."

"Oh brother, you are so weird."

"Don't worry about him gorgeous, he's just jealous. We'll get out of here and back to Bobby's. You'll be fixed up like new in no time. I'll take care of you."

"Can we leave now or do you two need a moment alone? Maybe at a carwash somewhere?"

"Why, you see one?"

"Shut up Dean and get in the damn car."

"With pleasure Sammy."

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><p><strong>Well, there you have it, I hope you enjoyed! And thanks again to all of you who are taking the time to read and review, it means so much!<strong>

**Choices for L: Laboratory; Leather; Leech; Lightning**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello there. I know, it has been a long time, sorry about that. Very busy and very stressed lately so haven't been able to update this as fast as I would have liked. Welcome to 'L' for LEECH! It's short, it's kind of silly, but I hope it is also entertaining. Thanks to any still following along, I appreciate it very much! :)**

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><p>He's freakin freezing his nads off. He's shivering and.. damn it. He's wet. He <em>hates<em> being wet.

"Dean, can you hear me man? Just relax, you're gonna be fine."

Sammy. Doesn't sound too convincing. Why does he sound so far away? And… shit, why are his ears buzzing and... why the hell is it so hard to move?

"F..fe'l fnny…"

"Just gotta slice the thing off."

Slice the?... And why is he rocking?

Oh crap. Right. Forgot. Water. Boat. Bad ass Loch-Ness monster wanna be. And… um…

"S'mmmm?"

"Just take it easy Dean. Gotta get the suckers off. Jesus, you're as white as a sheet. Dean? With me?"

Suckers? Okay. Suckers can't be so bad. Well, wait, not true. Shit. Suckers do exactly what the word implies. They suck. As in suck you dry. As in all of your insides, until you're just a wrinkled up shell. Perfect.

"De'd?"

"No, you aren't dead Dean. I'm not gonna let that happen, you hear me!"

No, the… the thing. Not him, he knows he ain't dead. Sam musta killed the fricken thing while he was busy... um... the hell with it, he'll just have a little snooze while Sammy figures out what to do next. He's tired and he can't be bothered to figure this shit out right now.

"DEAN! Stay awake!"

Okay, jeez. Stop with the shaking.

"Listen. I killed the thing but I don't know, this stupid tentacle is still attached and it's still feeding so I gotta get it off. Understand?"

Not really, too tired to understand but whatever you say Sam. Thing is dead. But it's still killing me. Got it. Awesome.

"Stay calm and try not to move, this is gonna sting a little."

What? What is he gonna... Ow! SON OF A FRIGGIN BITCH! That hurts!

"Sorry man, the only way to stop it is to burn them off."

Excuse me, burn them off?

"How….m'ny?"

"It's not so bad. Only… um… eleven more to go. Piece of cake right? Maybe you should try and have a siesta while I take care of these, it's gonna take a while."

Hmmm, best thing you've said all day.

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><p>"Okay man, all done. How you doing?"<p>

He feels like he lost a round or two with a damn vacuum cleaner. Nothing like getting your blood taken out by some damn Hoover monster and then have your brother pretty much roast you alive to get the damn things off. Shit. Oh well, at least he's still breathing.

"Huh. Well, that _sucked._"

"Dean…"

"Feel a bit _drained_."

"Hilarious dude but you look like shit. C'mon, let's get the hell out of here. Dean?"

"Great, just look at me..."

"What?"

"I look like a fricken guinea pig for leech hickie lessons!"

"Yeah, now that you mention it. Glad to have you back dude."

"Thanks Sammy."

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed!<strong>

**Choices for M: Mutilate; Masterpiece; Massacre; Mayhem. If you have any other suggestions please let me know and maybe I can work them in. Also, if you have any requests for 'N' I am all ears!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi, yes it's me and yes, I have been very neglectful of this alphabet series. I apologize for that. Well, it looks like we are headed into a chapter of mayhem... fasten those seatbelts!**

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><p><strong>Mayhem <strong>**_noun_:** violent and needless disturbance.

He slams into the door, his delight in annoying Sam with his off key rendition of Led Zeppelin ripped away in an instant as he pauses, the wind knocked out of him, breathless and unsure of what the hell just happened.

While he fights to keep control of the wheel, he glances to the passenger seat. It's as natural to him to check on his brother as it is to breathe. Although, at the moment he and his lungs don't seem to be getting along to well.

Sam is there, looks to be unconscious, a nasty cut just above his eye, but the rise and fall of his chest in a healthy rhythm helps put his mind at ease.

"S'm..." he croaks out and as his vocal chords seem to have abandoned him as well, he reaches out with a shaky hand to grab hold of the silent figure beside him.

Before he can get a grip of Sam's jacket his hand is ripped from his baby and he is thrown about the confines of his beautiful car. He wonders what he did to piss her off, why she is intent on killing him as he is relentlessly tossed around the interior like he weighs nothing at all.

And if he is being flung around like a damn muppet then so is his brother. Damn.

The ride stops and he can't help but moan in pain as a flare in his side ignites, as his trip suddenly stops and he plummets from his new vantage point on the damn roof of his car to the seat below. He pushes the pain and disorientation back, can't let himself lose focus of what is truly important. Sam.

Sam is a mess of hair and limbs and blood but when Dean crawls along and finally finds his face, two dazed and confused eyeballs stare back at him.

"D'n? Wh-wha' happen?"

"Hell... if I know..."

Sam's attention focuses on something past his shoulder, as if he has spotted movement there and so he follows suit, the flow of adrenaline allowing him to get ready to put up one hell of a fight, if whatever the hell did this to them is fixing to get some more.

His eyes widen as he stares through the broken windshield to the world outside. He shakes his head. Okay, this is new. The chaos that swirls around them is the last thing he thought they would ever feel the wrath of.

The rotating funnel spins its way through the road ahead, it lifts cars and debris from God knows where and casts them out through its spinning whirlwind to the ground below. He can't help but flinch at the sight and the realization that they have just bore the brunt of mother nature at her very worst, and are still alive.

No ghost. No spirit. No demon bent on sadistic revenge.

A shiver rolls through him.

Sometimes Hell on earth has got nothing to do with Hell at all.

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><p><strong>That's all I got for Mayhem! For N the choices are: Nap, Narcotic, Naked, Nightmare<strong>


	14. Naked Part One

**Well, the votes have been tallied and checked and quadruple checked and… the winner is… NAKED! What a shocker! I nearly fell off my seat when I stared at my computations and the results stared me in the face! ;)**

**Okay, so really, when you think naked what comes to mind? Angst? Drama? Hurt/Comfort? Nah, me either. Humour all the way baby….****The thing is that this particular subject is going to take place over two chapters.. I tried to shorten it but the first chapter is the lead up... the next one will be the action... so, I hope you can hold out for actual nakedness until part two. **

**Oh, one more thing... Dean has got a major case of FBomb-itis in this... and there is some raunchiness as well... what can I say, I'm branching out.**

**Okay, so I hope that you will enjoy and thanks again for making this Alphabet Adventure so much fun!... Alright then, enough said, on with the 'show'…**

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><p>"Dean, just gonna head to the can, be right back."<p>

"Uh, sure. You know, maybe I didn't go to college but I sure as hell can read the big neon sign pointing out Men's Sammy, but thanks anyways for the play by play."

"You are such a jerk, Dean."

"Well, at least I ain't got perma bitchface syndrome… bitch."

"Whatever dude, order me another beer alright?"

"Sure. Don't flush yourself Sammy!"

Ah, bitchface plus flushed face equals big brother one, Sammy Samster zero.

"Could I get two more please? Thanks."

Man, there is like no action to be had in this place. Two grannies, a wrinkled up fake n'baker and a platter of jailbait. Ah well, guess it's a sign to actually get some rest. Riding with Sammy again, man, it's fucking tiring.

Damn it. No. Please. Keep walking. Sam, hurry the hell up. Just keep walking… just keep…shit…

"Hey handsome, buy a girl a drink?"

A girl? Hell, I'd take one of the white haired bitties over there any damn day of the week.

"Oh, uh, hi there. Um, actually, just waiting on my brother and then we're busting out of this joint. Sorry, maybe another time."

Woah, easy with the laser eyes bitch, I'm trying to let you down gentle.

"Really? That doesn't make sense, after all you did just order another round. Come on baby, just add another to the tab."

Jesus Sam, for the love of…

Ugh, someone tell me there is _not _a leathery, twenty years to long in the tanning bed hand resting on my thigh. Great, I just puked in my mouth a little. Seriously.

"Why don't you ditch that brother of yours and come back to my place, I bet you look even prettier in your birthday suit."

Definite puke material here.

Thank God. "Hey! Hey Sam, over here dude!"

Did he just slow down? And is he smiling? That fucking bastard, he is so dead.

"Hey man, oh sorry, am I interrupting something?"

Oh I am gonna knock that smirk off your face little brother.

"Hi there, I'm Sam. I see you've already met my brother Dean."

You mean your name _was_ Sam. Come on, grab your beer dude… grab your beer… fuck it…

"Here's your beer Sammy. Better drink up, got an early day tomorrow… _remember_?"

"Really? Actually, I _don't_ remember that Dean, I thought we were gonna stay in town for another day or two."

Smug bastard thinks this is funny. I am going to tear him so many new ones he won't be able to take a damn drink without… speaking of, where's my fucking beer? Mmmm…. Maybe that'll wash this memory away.

"Hi Sam, name's Gertrude.."

Holy shit… that fucking hurts…

"Dean? You okay bro? God, I don't think I have ever seen someone spew beer out of their nose before. That looks like it stings."

"If you boys would excuse me for a moment, I'm going to go powder my nose. Sam, could I ask you a favour?"

"Uh, sure, I guess."

"Convince your stud brother here to leave with me... and tell him that I plan to give him the ride of his life."

Oh My. Fucking. God. What in fucks sake is going on here? This chick _cannot_ be for real! And Sam, the game is on! Well, at least he has the decency to look slightly shocked at that last disgusting and member-shrivelling comment.

"Not one fucking word Sam. Look...Gertrude is it?"

"That's me sugar... and I can't wait until you say it loud and..."

Jesus, could this get any more gross?

"I'm sure you're a great lay-dee and all but I think there has been a misunderstanding. See, my brother is yanking your chain and being a total dick to me right now and really, I don't want to hurt your feelings but the only thing that's gonna happen is that Sam and I are going to leave… alone. End of story."

Okay, she looks unbelievably pissed off.

"YOU ARROGANT SON OF A BITCH! DON'T YOU DARE PATRONIZE ME!"

What the hell is she...

"Fuck!" That hag just slapped me! Well, at least that woke numb nuts beside me out of his fucking stupor.

"Woah, Gertrude… come on now, there's no need for violence. Look, I'm sure Dean is flattered but he's right, we are definitely leaving here, without you. You seem a bit too unstable, even for us. C'mon Dean, let's go."

"YEAH, YOU BETTER RUN YOU PIECE OF SHIT! SAM, I'M COMING FOR YOU… AND DEAN? YOUR ASS IS MINE!"

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><p>"What the fuck was that Sam?"<p>

"What? I was just having a little fun man. Jesus, how was I supposed to know she was totally insane?"

"Whatever, I need a damn drink. Come on, let's stop off and get some brews somewhere without alligator-skinned, horny and insane women to deal with. That bitch was crazy dude!"

"Yeah, I could use a drink. That was definitely weird man."

"Then quit smiling dude, you are totally creeping me out."

* * *

><p>"Now this is what I am talking about! All a man needs right here in this non-descript brown paper bag man."<p>

"Uh, all I see is beer and… dude, what the fuck? M&M's?"

"Yes, that is correct young grasshopper, the two vices to true enlightenment."

"Alright Dali Lama, you get the gear, I'll take your bag of treasures inside."

"Shut up."

"Hey dude, don't forget, I'm not the one who….."

What the hell? Fuck, can't we have one god damned night without this shit? Damn it! He's got my fucking gun.

"Sam? SAM! You in there? What the hell? Let go of my brother asshat."

"Hi Dean. Say hello to my little friend."

"You? Shit, you have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Hey handsome. Miss me?"

"Sam, you okay?"

"Y'h…"

"Tell you friend here to let him go bitch, or so help me I'll… "

"Kill me? Yeah right. Look sweetie, I don't want anyone to get hurt, I just want… well, you know what I want."

"And who the fuck is the fugly _Gertrude_? Your pimp?"

"Temper temper Dean. I'd hate for him to accidentally break your brother's neck because you pissed him off by calling him names."

"Alright, alright.. just relax, I'm sure we can figure this insanely fucked up situation out. What the hell do you want?"

"Your clothes. Off."

"Excuse me?"

"Clothes. Off."

"Or what?"

"Or I tell my gorilla to crush Sam's windpipe. Seems like a no brainer to me hotstuff."

She is a fucking lunatic. I'm not just gonna stand here while Sam... shit.

"Tsk, tsk Dean. I guess I forgot to mention the part about the gun huh? Just an insurance policy, I don't intend to use it but if you move again I may get trigger happy. Oh, and one more thing. Your clothes? Take them off Nice. And. Slow."

Okay, I _am_ going to puke.

"This is a joke right? No? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Make it good sugar or baby brother over there stops breathing."

"Man, you are beyond fucked up bitch. All this trouble just to see me naked? Must be a sad, pathetic little life you lead."

"Actually, it's no big mystery."

"That so?"

"Look Dean, I have a bit of a problem with rejection."

"No shit lady."

"See, it gets me all worked up and liable to do something rash. What's the big deal? Just give me what I want and you and your brother get to walk away, no harm done."

"No harm… jesus, wouldn't you rather hit me.. or.. I know, how about shoot me? Will that..."

"How about you shut that pretty fucking mouth of yours.. unless you'd rather use it for something other than talking."

God. Ewwwww... this is not happening. This cannot be happening.

"How about stabbing? You look like the kind of bitch that would get off on that kind of shit. I know, why don't you start by gouging out my fucking eyeballs!"

"Quit stalling and start stripping Dean. Unless you ain't got the _balls_ .. huh, maybe that's it. Maybe you're all flashy on the outside but under the hood your just a clunky, old beater."

Did this crackwhore just insult my... whatever, she won't get to me. I ain't the one who looks like a beaten down snakeskin boot.

"Look, all I want is what I asked for nicely, before you and your asshole brother decided to get all nasty."

What?

"Look sweetheart, I wasn't nasty, I was being fucking polite! Wanna know the truth? You look like some shrivelled up cheerleader from the thirties who still thinks they are worth getting banged. Newsflash sister..."

"Dean? D'n?"

"What!"

"C...can't b..breathe d..dude... p..please, just... d...do it... already."

Sammy. Shit. You so owe me like for the rest of your damn life.

This is so disgusting. Okay man, just breathe and relax. You can do this. For Sammy. Just please, don't turn on...

"I hope you don't mind if I put on a little background music."

... the porn channel.

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><p><strong>Stay tuned for part two! Oh, and if you have any suggestions for the Letter O, feel free to message me with them... Thanks for reading! :)<strong>


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